


Come Away With Me

by lilbatfacedgirl



Series: Escapar [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bottom Ian Gallagher, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, But Not Much, Honeymoon, Light BDSM, M/M, Top Ian Gallagher, Top Mickey Milkovich, and for good reason, because that's how they roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbatfacedgirl/pseuds/lilbatfacedgirl
Summary: Some snapshots of Ian and Mickey's honeymoon in the Escapar universe.  Probably necessary to read The Captain of My Soul first.





	Come Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

> After having this in my head and half-outlined forever, I got cracking on it after CM's announcement on Monday. I needed to make sure I had a happy ending at the ready. Now that we all know how things go down, I'm reasonably content with canon but I still like to imagine them in beautiful places. 
> 
> If any of the tags concern you, please see the notes as the bottom.
> 
> Also, apologies for grammar errors or repetition. I kind of cranked this out fast.

  1. **Miguel Castillo International Airport, Guadalajara,** **Jalisco, Mexico**



**February 29, 2023**

They were getting close to the gate when Ian felt the sweat start pooling on the palms of his hands again.  Dropping his carry-on, he quickly wiped them against the legs of his pants. Fuck. He had to knock this shit off.  The way he was behaving, the customs agents were going to think they were smuggling drugs or some shit.

Mickey seemed to agree.  “Would you knock it the fuck off,” he whispered furiously, trying to keep his own face benign, “The point is  _ not  _ to draw attention!”

Ian took two deep, steadying breaths and fumbled with his bag and the burgundy colored French passport in his hand.  It was the brownish-red document that was the problem. Augustin had insisted that Ian needed new papers if he was going to travel outside of Mexico with Mickey.  

New.  That was Augustin’s word for them.  The real word was “fake”. But what else were they going to do?  Mickey’s fugitive ass might not be high on the Marshalls’ radar but they weren’t exactly going to poke that bear and Ian couldn’t really argue with the Frenchman’s logic.  They had no idea if Ian was a person of interest in any potential search for Mickey that might still be going on. Why even take the chance?

It had sounded perfectly reasonable when they were discussing their trip six weeks ago.  He and Mickey had been too shocked by Augustin’s gift to really think through any of the logistics.  They’d just sat on the sprawling patio outside of he and Ivan’s huge house overlooking the resort with matching dumbfounded expressions on their faces as the Frenchman casually explained that he was kicking them out of the country the day after their simple wedding ceremony and sending them on a wild trip around the world, starting on Sipadan Island in Malaysia, then Reykjavik, Iceland, then onto Augustin’s chateau in Chamonix up in the French Alps.  It was nearly too much for two street kids from South Chicago, but they’d spent the last few years surrounded by the opulent beauty of Escapar and Ivan and Augustin’s particular brand of elegant and refined hedonism. It had given them at least some preparation. 

Travel, though, that was new.  Mickey had left the country once before on fake documents when Ivan had dragged him to Nice on business but today was Ian’s first real trip and now that the moment of truth was upon him, he was nervous as fuck.

“It’s going to be fine,” Mickey muttered over his shoulder as they stepped forward in line.  There were only three people in front of them now. “Nothing’s going to happen. These aren’t the cheap kind of shit we used to buy from Benny at the liquor store for fuck’s sake.  Ivan handled these.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better,” Ian snarked, but he could hear the traces of humor in his own voice.  Mickey threw a smirk over his shoulder at him, drawing a smile to his own lips. Yeah, that made him feel better.  Neither he or Mickey knew exactly what Ivan did for a living but they were both definitely sure he knew certain kinds of people.  Their documents would be foolproof, of that they were sure. 

“Next.”

Mickey stepped forward, cool and collected, and handed the uniformed woman the small burgundy booklet and his matching license.  Ian felt his breath catch but the woman simply asked the regular questions and then scanned and stamped the document. The brunette turned and caught Ian’s eyes as he walked forward but his own process was just as simple; scan, stamp, walk on through.  

“You gotta stop worrying about shit so much,” Ian could feel the warm tickle of Mickey’s breath against his ear as the brunette slid up behind him, pressing his chest to Ian’s back and wrapping his arms around the redhead’s waist.  Ian’s fingers slid up to link with the other man’s instinctively, and he could feel the gentle clink of matching gold bands bumping lightly as their hands found each other and clung. With a long exhale, Ian let himself sink back against his brand new husband, leaning into the other man right in the middle of the airport.  Mickey pulled him closer for a moment, then drew back, seizing his other hand and heading down the hall.

“C’mon, Firecrotch.  Let’s get to our gate.”

Ian glanced up at the signs as they strolled past.  The huge placard for Malaysian Airlines hung above their heads.  Hell. They were going. They were really, really going. Sinking down into a chair at the gate, he caught Mickey’s eyes with a warm glance.  This was going to be fucking awesome.

 

II.   **The Water Village Resort, Sipadan Island, Malaysia**

The rail of the headboard was made of some kind of bamboo.  In the farthest reaches of his mind, Ian supposed that made sense.  After all, the headboard was a part of their bed in the amazing luxury cabin where he and Mickey were staying in the Water Village of Sipadan Island, and one thing that could be said about the beautiful Malaysian island was that it was almost as famous for its tall, stunning bamboo forests as it was its rare and incredible coral reefs.  That was all fine and tomorrow Ian might even take some genuine interest in the way the five star resort had integrated local flavor into their decor. Right now, though, the smooth, round bamboo headboard had only one purpose; to fit in his hands and give him leverage as he bounced franticly on his husband’s cock. 

Jesus fuck, he had no words.  They’d completely abandoned him three minutes ago, leaving him with nothing but the guttural groans that poured out of him as he worked himself up and down Mickey’s length.  Beneath him, the brunette was matching him moan for moan, and Ian could feel warm hands clutching at his hips and ass. 

If he’d been capable of real thought, Ian might have smirked with a hint of pride.  He didn’t need to look down to know that he was driving Micky crazy, that the brunette’s head was lolling from to side to side on the pillow, his mouth open as he cried out in time to each of Ian’s downward thrusts.  The image drove the slight remnants of Ian’s last inhibition straight out of his head and he rode the brunette even harder, reveling in the power that flowed through him. Fuck, was this why Mickey loved bottoming so much?  Or was it just the incredibly intimate fullness?

Ian wasn’t sure himself.  And he hadn’t felt this confident or reflective when he’d first made the request hours earlier.  He and Mickey had dropped their bags and all their clothes the second they’d made it to the gorgeous oceanfront cottage they’d be staying in for the next week.  They’d been giddily rolling around on the huge bed only moments later and it was in that playfully lust drunk moment that Ian suddenly realized how he wanted to spend the first night of their honeymoon.  

He wanted Mickey to fuck him for the first time.

The brunette had been shocked, to put it lightly, which was fair.  In all their time together, Ian had offered to bottom exactly once, as they’d scrambled into the backseat of the car on their ill-fated trip to the border.  In the years since, they’d fought over and talked out all that shit but they’d never revisited Ian’s proposition. They’d always worked so well together sexually, even when everything else was going to shit, that is had just never seemed like a pressing issue. But Ian had always held onto it in the back of his mind.  He was a top, he’d always known that, but he also hated that there was something he’d tried and even enjoyed with another man, but never with the love of his life. 

So he’d asked. And his wide-eyed new husband had agreed.

The first time had been weird but sweet.  Ian and Mickey knew each other’s bodies as well as their own by now, but this new dynamic had messed that all up.  But who the fuck had cared? They’d grinned and teased and wrestled lightly until Mickey found his rhythm, until each rocking thrust had started to feel good, and then amazing.  That was when Ian had first felt the wild needy electricity flowing over his skin. His arms and legs had moved involuntarily, wrapping themselves around the bruette and pulling him closer.  As intense pleasure had built up in his stomach, Ian had felt tears start to prickle in the corners of his eyes. The southside core of him had nearly revolted for a second, had nearly screamed out that Ian Gallagher didn’t fucking cry during sex, but Ian had shoved it back down as quickly as it had emerged.  Fuck it. This mattered. It felt perfect and healing, like the last tiny wall between them was crumbling as they came together, hot and panting into each other’s mouths. Mickey had looked down on him, clear concern on his face as he wiped the corners of Ian’s eyes but the redhead’s huge and genuine smile had wiped the worry away.  

“You good?” he’d asked anway, as he’d stroked his thumb over Ian’s cheekbone.  

“Yeah,” the redhead had answered, letting his eyes fall closed as he leaned into Mickey’s touch, “Fucking perfect.”

They’d slept then, sharing one pillow as their fingers played in each others hair, but the nap had been pretty short.  Jet lag was a bitch but Ian’s newly discovered cravings played an even bigger role and he’d soon he’d had Mickey sprawled on his back as he sank down on his shaft.  They’d stroked and touched for a while as Ian had bounced lightly and Mickey had let his fingertips drift teasingly over his stomach and hips. 

Again, though, the playfulness had been fleeting, driven away by another wave of intense emotion as he watched the love of his life writhing underneath him.  Ian didn’t understand it. He was a little afraid of it. But he wanted to feel it just the same; this searing connection as he gave Mickey this very last part of him.  

The headboard creaked but the wood of the frame was strong and Ian whispered a prayer of gratitude to whoever might be listening.  It needed to hold because he wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t even sure he could right now, his body barely under his own control as it worked his husband’s cock.  Hot spikes of pleasure were shooting through his body, turning his moans in to high pitched keens that resonated in the back of his throat. His skin felt hot and tight and Mickey’s fingertips only made it worse.  Between their bodies, his own shaft was hard against his stomach, bobbing between them with each thrust. 

Hell.  Ian shifted, dropping his hands down to the lower rung and letting his weight settle against Mickey’s skin.  The brunette sighed contentedly at the new contact, sliding his knees up and tipping Ian down even more firmly against him.  As he fell, Ian could feel the heat that already pulsed inside him start to surge. Fuck, fuck, he was really losing control now, winding his long legs back under Mickey’s raised thighs and letting his full weight lie flush against the other man’s chest as his eyes screwed closed  And still he needed more.. 

“Fuck,” he whined, desperation bleeding into his voice.  He was giving Mickey the greatest intimacy, letting the other man inside his body, and still it didn’t feel like enough.  It didn’t feel like enough redemption for the time they’d been forced to spend apart. Why the fuck was this shit coming up now?  

“Shhhh,” a voice whispered beneath him, “Don’t know where the fuck you’re going but you come back to me.  You get your ass back here right now.”

The voice was quiet but deadly serious and Ian’s eyes opened immediately.  The moment they did, they met a determined blue gaze. Mickey hadn’t stopped moving, thrusting up to meet him as he frantically bored down, but the warm hands that had been playing along his hips were now coming up to cup his face, drawing him in close.  Mickey held his face still, even as their bodies continued to move unbidden together. He kept their gazes fixed and locked and Ian could feel his panic receeded as he stared into the warm blue. 

“Stay with me,” the brunette whispered, “You stay with me and let me have you.”

Ian couldn’t find words.  He could only nod frantically.  His body was wound tight, ready to explode and he fixed his eyes on Mickey’s and chased it.  His mouth was open, crying out against Mickey’s lips with each thrust. The brunette continued to move with him, hard and steady, licking into his mouth, stealing his breath and drinking in his keening wails.  Between their bodies, his own hard cock was throbbing one edge.

Ian felt it for whole second before it finally hit, a rush of lightning heat that built in every part of his body.  It exploded all at once, outward and inward, and his cries pitched into wails as his hips flexed erratically, grinding down desperately on Mickey’s shaft.  Between them, Ian could feel the heat of his release as it painted their skin, wave after wave as his climax continued. It seemed endless and it might as well have been because he wasn’t stopping, not until he felt Mickey’s own warmth inside him.  His entire body was alive with electric sensation but Ian just continued to rock on his husband’s cock.

“Ian...fuck...Ian I fucking lo…” Mickey’s words were drowned out by the deep moan that tore out of his throat.  His back arched and his head fell back, his hands sliding around Ian’s hips to drive him downward. Ian rode him through the crest, loving the open vulnerability on his lover’s face as he came.  His body was still moving reflexively but Mickey’s hands shot up again, wrapping around his back and pulling him even closer.

“C’mere,” the brunette panted as he pulled their mouths together.  

The kiss was deep but short by necessity as Ian let himself fall against Mickey’s chest and pant as he fought to get his breath back.  His mind was in tatters and his body felt like jelly but it was okay. He was secure and sound, sprawled across the brunette’s warmth with his half spent cock still inside him.  For the moment, Ian was fully sated. 

It was several moments later that the spell was broken, as Mickey shifted slightly beneath him and started to wriggle free.

“Gotta breath, Firecrotch.”

The brunette barely pulled away, only sitting up on the bed for a moment to grab a cloth and wipe himself down, but the distance was suddenly too much.  Ian’s arm flew out reflexively, pulling him down and close again.

“Get back here,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice light, but he knew Mickey could hear the real tendrils of panic in his words.

“I’m here,” the brunette said quickly, immediately sliding down on his side until they were face to face, the firm planes of their chests and warm bellies flush together. Ian felt Mickey slip one arm beneath his neck and the other around his back.  He felt him slide their legs together in a tangle. They were as closely as physically possible but it still wasn’t enough. Ian could hear the edge in the hitch of his breath as he fought for control.

“What do you need?”

“I’m not sure.  I fucking...shit, this is so stupid,” a nervous giggle tore out of Ian’s mouth as he met Mickey’s eyes.  “I need to feel you still,” he answered honestly. “I want more.”

“Can’t do shit about that right now,” Mickey answered, pressing his spent dick into Ian’s stomach for emphasis. “And you better believe you’re giving me a ride next.”  The easy tone did it’s work and Ian could feel the tension start to bleed out of his face and shoulders as Mickey rubbed the tips of their noses together and stroked his back.  

With a shift of his hips, Mickey slid up, looking over Ian’s shoulder for a moment as the redhead watched.  “Come here,” he said again, pulling Ian closer. 

The redhead waited with bated breath as the brunette skimmed his hands over his lower back and down the sensitive cleft of his ass.  When a finger started gently probing at his furl, Ian smiled. 

“Fuck,” he panted as Mickey breached him, sliding his middle finger deeply into his body and crooking it gently, “Fuck, fuck, yes.  Please.” Again, his hips were moving on their own, grinding back gently against Mickey’s hand. The brunette wasted no time, positioning a second finger and letting the gentle shift of Ian’s body work it in.  

“Better,” he whispered against Ian’s lips.

“Yes,” Ian let the word slip in between the delicate breaths that were escaping him and he ground back against the penetration.

“Good.  Then return the fucking favor.”  

Ian could feel his smile turn wicked.  As Mickey continued to gently play his body, Ian let his own hand drift down over the brunette’s skin, searching for his own sensitive hole.  He probed carefully and gently. He hadn’t fucked Mickey for nearly twelve hours but it was still loose enough if he was careful. With deliberate movements, he circled his fingertip three times, then pushed in.  

Mickey moaned, a filthy sound, and pressed back himself.  Ian stilled, letting the brunette take control and draw him in.

“More,”

“You sure?”

“Fuck, Ian, give me another one.”

Ian didn’t argue again.  He followed his husband’s lead, letting the brunette work the second digit in.  Once he was firmly seated, Ian gave a tiny tug, pulling their bodies completely flush again and making sure that their sensitive cocks were brushing against each other with every movement.  

Ian’s eyes were open as he drew Mickey’s lips back to him.  He kept the kiss long, simple and firm, just lips pressed together as they teased each other’s bodies.  It may have gone on for hours, Ian wasn’t sure, but it was Mickey who pulled back first.

“I fucking love you,” he whispered.

Ian smiled.  “I fucking love you, too.”

They lay on the same pillow, gently sharing pleasure and warm breath, as the darkness surrounded them.  When Ian awoke again, hours later, he couldn’t contain his smile. 

They hadn’t moved all night.  

 

**III.**

Mickey fiddled with the USB cord, carefully unwinding and fitting it into his laptop.  The sun had dropped completely and the sky was growing darker by the minute but the front patio of their cottage had long strings of twinkling lights that came on automatically, allowing Mickey to keep doing his work.  He’d taken a ton of shots today and he wanted them uploaded as soon as possible. He’d learned from past experience that it wasn’t a good idea to leave pictures on an underwater camera, even one as quality as his. And so he wasted no time, plugging the other end of the cord into his laptop and opening up his photography program, watching as the little green bar slowly moved across the screen.  

He hadn’t meant to get sucked in.  He’d brought his laptop along on the trip but he promised himself that it would only be for uploading shots.  He was here on his honeymoon, for fuck’s sake, here on his honeymoon with Ian who he’d somehow, someway, managed to marry despite all the bullshit fate had thrown their way.  He had all the time in the world to look at this shit. But as his eyes drifted over the newly uploaded shots, his mind immediately kicked into gear, compiling schooling numbers, calculating the clumping patterns of different corals.  It was fully dark and his eyes were starting to glaze over when a large tray full of food was placed on the table beside him.

His blue eyes shot up, meeting his husband’s amused gaze.

“Shit,” he sputtered, glancing back down at the tray, then back up at Ian, “Fuck...I’m fucking sorry...I didn’t...we were gonna…”

But Ian only grinned and slid into a seat beside, pulling a leg up into the oversized chair as he heaped food onto a plate and passed it to Mickey.

“Too fucking tired to go to dinner tonight,” the redhead said, his face open and honest as he filled his own plate, “Beat to hell from all the swimming.  We need to get some sleep so we can get out there again tomorrow.”

Mickey sank back against the soft cushions and stared at the other man. “We can do other shit, too,” he murmured, letting his eyes search Ian’s face carefully.  “I mean, we don’t need to be on the water every day and…”

“What the hell’s with you,” Ian interjected, reached out with a long leg and using his bare toe to poke at Mickey’s stomach.  “What’s with you...huh...huh!” he punctuated each word with a poke. Mickey couldn’t stop the grin that split his face and he batted the attacking foot away lightly.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled as he captured Ian’s foot and began to rub along the arch.  “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do it everyday just for me, you know? I mean, we’re here in this incredible place…” his voice trailed away as he looked up, but the redhead was still smiling fondly.

“This place is fucking amazing,” Ian replied, stretching back in his chair.  He crossed his other foot up and let both rest in Mickey’s lap as he continued.  “And the most amazing things are what’s in the water. What the hell are you so worried about?  You think I don’t want to be out there with you? That’s bullshit and you know it. I might not obsess over migration patterns and algae counts like your nerdy ass,” he quipped, “but you sure as hell know how much I love being out on the water with you.”

The hitch in Mickey’s breath was completely involuntary and he ducked his head for a moment as a wave of emotion enveloped him.  He let his fingers curl around Ian’s foot, grounding him. He didn’t know how it had happened, how they’d managed to get so lucky, to have found each other again, to have found a home they adored and a passion they could share.  He felt a pull and Ian was suddenly sliding his feet away and standing up, taking two strides forward towards him. Before Mickey could move, the taller man stepped up and climbed into the oversized chair behind him, pulling him back against his chest and burrowing into his neck.  

“Love the way you smell,” Ian murmured, holding him close with arm.  With the other, the redhead pulled out his phone, using his thumb to flip through the contents.

“Want to show you something,” he whispered against Micky’s ear.  The brunette let himself be drawn back against his husband’s firm chest as the redhead held up his phone.  

Mickey studied the picture on the screen.  He didn’t know when Ian had captured it, but from the look of the photo, he’d been too mesmerized to notice.  It was of him, a profile shot as he stood by the boat rail with his wetsuit stripped down to his waist. His tank and regulator had been discarded by then but his mask was still atop his head, causing his wet hair to bunch up.  It was a nice shot of him, he’d admit to that, but he knew what it was that had caused Ian to take the picture. It was the look on his face, the wide grin, the sheer joy, as he stared out over the water.

“Do you know how much I love seeing you like this,” Ian whispered, letting his lips graze over Mickey’s throat. “I’ve known you most of my life in one way or another. I’ve seen you smile before, even heard you laugh and shit, but I never got to see you like this. Until you got away, you never felt, I don’t know. Safe enough, I guess.  But now I get to see this all the time, when you’re on the water, when you’re talking to Yev…”

“When I’m with you.”

I’an snorted against his neck. “Don’t you dare bitch at me about being a corny motherfucker when you say shit like that,” he griped, but Mickey could hear the good humor in his voice. “I love you, okay?  I love being here with you, seeing all this amazing shit with you. There is nothing else I’d rather do than get to see all of this with you and you better fucking believe that I mean that.” Ian’s phone clattered onto the table and Mickey suddenly felt the redhead’s hand cupping his chin and drawing his face around to meet a lovingly fierce green gaze.  “Do you understand me?” he demanded as he studied Mickey’s face.

Mickey didn’t answer.  He couldn’t really find words but he wasn’t about to admit that.  So instead, he did the next best thing. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Ian’s mouth, then leaned back, nibbling on his own lip in a way he knew drove his new husband nuts.

Right on fucking cue, Ian’s expression turned mulish.  “Oh, you wanna be a fucking tease?” he muttered, smacking at Mickey’s ass as he climbed out from behind him and took his own seat again, ladeling up their dinner.  “You’d better be ready to pay for that shit then.”

Mickey could feel the smile on his lips widen with mischievous interest.  “Oh, yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the redhead bit out as he handed him a plate.

“What were you thinking?”

Ian took his own plate and leaned back, gazing out on the ocean.  Mickey sat back, too, but his gaze stayed on his husbands. The moon was out now, drowning out the little lights on the patio.  Ian looked so fucking beautiful like this. 

“Tonight, my plans are pretty simple.  I’m gonna feed you, fuck you, and put your ass to bed because we’re exhausted as hell and need our sleep for tomorrow.  But we’re doing a short dive because we still need to be safe and take breaks, and that means you’re all mine tomorrow afternoon.”  He took a bite of his food, never breaking the heated gaze. “And I fucking mean it. All mine. All afternoon.”

Mickey felt the thrill of anticipation shoot through him at the heat in Ian’s words.  “What you thinking?”

“Wouldn’t your ass like to know?”

“It would.”

“Yeah, well, it can find out with the rest of you tomorrow.” the redhead quipped with a wicked grin.  

 

**IV**

There were so many things Mickey loved about Ian.  His easy grin, his determination, his eyes. He loved his cock, too.  Holy shit, did he love it. He loved its perfect length and shape, the way it filled him in all the right ways.  And he loved Ian’s stamina, loved how the redhead could fuck him and fuck him until he was spastic and mindless and totally at the other man’s mercy.  Usually, he loved it, but right now, in this moment, as his body quaked and his thoughts fractured, as his words gave way to mindless, frantic cries, he was vaguely aware that Ian’s stamina might actually fucking kill him. 

_ Jesu...fu..uck..uh...ah _

Mickey was sure of nothing now.  He knew that his back was arching, that his stomach was tightening.  He knew that his ass was clenching and bearing down on Ian’s perfect length, pressed right  up inside him. His entire body was taut, caught up in a rush of intense pleasure that sucked the words from his mind and the oxygen from his body.  Above him, he was vaguely aware of Ian, braced on his forearms as he hovered close, nuzzling at the skin of his throat.

“That’s it, Mick,” the redhead praised against his oversensitive skin.  “Knew you’d be able to fucking take it,” Ian punctuated his words with hard and deliberate thrusts that rippled through his body and took his cries to another level.  Yanking at the silky cords that were carefully looped around his wrists and knotted to the headboard, Mickey thrashed, his entire body well out his control. He bucked and cried and pleaded with his eyes as the redhead continued to push shallowly inside of him and lav at the skin of his throat.  

Every inch of him was trembling, frenzied, and the knot building within him felt as if it couldn’t wind tighter.  But suddenly, it tore apart. Suddenly, the precise thrust of Ian’s perfect length within him, rubbing with careful and torturous deliberation over his prostate,  forced him to crest the hill. The sensations were overwhelming, spreading from his sensitive core to his farthest extremities in waves of pulsing heat. Mickey fought mindlessly at the bonds, his teeth baring down on the thick, long rose stem that Ian had dethorned and placed between his lips as he cried and cried in painful bliss.  His body spasmed and his throat bared itself to his tormentor as deliciously filthy sounds poured out of him. And if never fucking stopped. Fucking hell, it just kept building, circling and retreating. 

A low, teasing chuckle echoed in his ear as Ian flicked his tongue over the the lobe.  A warm palm caught his chin, turning his face so Ian could press a light kiss to his lips over the thick stem.  Even through the fog of an endlessly perpetuating climax, Mickey managed to focus on the redhead’s face. 

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” he stated, holding Mickey’s face firmly.  “I’m gonna give you a few minutes to get your life straight again.” 

Mickey bucked and cried out again when Ian drew back, but this time the redhead pulled out completely.   Leaning forward, he let his body settle flush against the warm skin beneath him, rutting slightly as Mickey whimpered and begged.  

“What do you want?” the redhead teased, licking at his lips as he asked,  “You want me to stop. Maybe, if you ask nicely, but probably not.” 

Mickey felt a shiver run up his spine, at the words and the dark undertone of the voice.  Staring up into Ian’s face just above him, he could see that same intensity written over his beautiful features.  In the back of his mind, Mickey knew that behind the veneer, his lover was taking careful assessment of his reactions and paying close attention to Mickey’s right hand.  It was bound to the headboard by one of a set of silk cords, but clutched in his fist was the white bloom of a rose. Ian had snatched it from a vase on a bedside table and made quick work of turning the stem into the world’s most ingenious gag.  Mickey had to give him props for that. It messed with his speech but didn’t get in the way of all the other sounds Ian loved to drag out of him, and it let the redhead easily molest his mouth. 

But the rose itself had another purpose.  Mickey knew, deep down, that if he opened his fingers and let the smashed ball of petals fall onto the floor, that every trace of darkness would disappear in a second.  Ian would be in full EMT mode, releasing him from the specially tied ropes and doing full assessments. He knew it, but when he stared up into Ian’s face, it was hard to see that man.  Ian loved this, loved having him at his mercy, loved being able to drive him and push him and take him and get him to give and give and give. And he loved it, too. If Mickey had learned anything about himself it was that he loved the surrender, the letting go.  He loved giving Ian the power and control, loved when Ian pushed at a wall until it collapsed. Yes, it was a game, of sorts, but when Ian went at him with this intensity, the edges of reality started to fray. And he loved that, too. 

The air felt cool against Mickey’s flushed skin when Ian pushed himself away, sitting back on his haunches and running his huge hands over his face and up through his hair, the down the lines of his chest.  Mickey could see the hungry, dangerous shadow in his eyes as he stared down at the brunette’s bound form, his mouth twisting in dark amusement as Mickey squirmed against the bed. 

“Take some deep breaths,” the redhead commanded, causing Mickey to freeze, “When I come back, we’re starting all over again.”  With that, Ian pushed away from the bed and took several steps back until he could rest against the lip of the dresser. Mickey couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in the sight.  The redhead was sweat streaked and glowing, his dick curving up perfectly against his stomach. Hidden out of sight, Mickey knew Ian had a ring wrapped around the base, which meant he was definitely going to be ready to go again.  Mickey groaned and let his head fall back as a residual wave of heat roiled through him. He legs began to draw together, but a growl from the end of the bed stopped him. 

“Keep them open.  You close them and I’m gonna have to use the rest of the cords.”

Mickey felt a course of sweat break out over his skin.  For a moment, he considered resisting, but he knew Ian wasn’t fucking around.  The redhead could have his legs spread and tied in under thirty seconds if he put his mind to it.  But if Mickey was being honest, he didn’t want it to go that way. No, he wanted to just give Ian anything he wanted, whatever it was.  Drawing in a deep breath, he let his feet slide along the mattress until his thighs were wide and every part of him was on display for Ian’s questing eyes.  

“Good,” came the heated reply from the foot of the bed, “Don’t move.”

Mickey didn’t.  It shocked him sometimes, how easily obedience come to him when the commands were issued by a certain redhead.  Instead he just drew in a deep breath and waited. It didn’t take long.

He felt the bed dip a moment later.  Hot fingertips skimmed up the inside of his shins a moment after that.  Then lips, working their way down the inside of his thigh. Already, Mickey could feel the tension building back up inside him.  Fuck. Ian wasn’t fucking kidding. He was going to put him through this whole fucking thing again, turn him into a shivering, hypersensitive wreck again.

Fuck.

Ian hadn’t been fooling around the day before when he’d said that Mickey would be his all night.  Mickey hadn’t doubted that for a moment but when he’d stepped out of the shower after their morning dive and seen the five silk cords laid out across the bed, a thrill of dangerous elation had flowed over him.  He hadn’t even realized Ian had packed them. But he did know how the redhead liked to use them. Mickey had spent many colorful evenings with Ian and his favorite toys. One for each wrist, one for each ankle.

And one that was used for tying something else up.

Mickey cried out and bore down, digging into the thick mattress as Ian’s lips found the junction of his thighs.  He could feel the coil in his stomach tighten again. He didn’t know if he could take this shit for a third time.

“You can do it,” came the muttered, perceptive response from between his thighs, “You know you can.  And deep down you’re gonna love it.”

And before Mickey could even draw in a breath, Ian used the pads of his thumbs to spread him open as he slowly pierced his hypersensitive furl with his tongue.

Mickey wailed.  There was no other word for it.  And he bit down hard on the stem that still lay across his lips, absurdly grateful for the slight relief the thin gag provided.  His arms were pulling at the cords again and his stomach was fluttering but Ian held nothing back, penetrating as deeply as possible.  It was hell, perfect hell, and a perfect tease for both of them because the sensitive nub that Ian sought always remained just out of reach.  

A warm, slow moving ripple ran through Mickey, drawing another cry.  Fuck. His whole body was so tightly strung that even the slightest bit of pressure was enough to restart the process.  He clamped his eyes shut, trying desperately to cope with the intense sensations as Ian drew his tongue out and began to kiss gently up his perineum.  Mickey drew in a few long breaths and bit down on the stem a little harder. He knew...fuck...he knew what came next.

Whatever breath the brunette had managed to collect, he lost it when Ian fingertip began to stroke up his cock.  It burst from his chest in a fast and frantic exhale and his eyes shot back open at the sensation, fixing wide-eyed at the ceiling.  Ian didn’t stop, though. Instead, he let his fingers trail along the final silken cord, tracing the soft length as it hugged tight around Mickey’s sack, full and taut after two dry orgasms.  He let his finger drift up higher, over the delicate but firm lattice work of the ladder knots that caged Mickey and kept him flaccid. He lingered over the last two loops, wrapped delicately and tied with a bow under the red and swollen head.  Mickey gritted his teeth. He didn’t think...he couldn’t take…

A literal shriek tore out of Mickey’s throat when Ian closed his mouth over the sensitive tips and began to suckle it gently.  The brunette could feel his thighs shifting closed instinctively but Ian’s huge hands caught them and held them wide as he released Mickey’s cock and looked up.

“Tut, tut,” he mocked, nipping at the left thigh and drawing an involuntary and needy squeal from the bound brunette.  With no other words, he leaned back down and drew Mickey’s entire length into his mouth, inciting a choking gasp from his captive at the fierce sensation.  The redhead tortured him for whole minutes, laving and swallowing gently so as not to disturb the careful knotwork. So as not to give Mickey an inch of freedom.  

He drew off lightly and placed a gentle, final kiss to the head, caressing Mickey’s full sack with one hand as he stoked up his stomach to play with a nipple with the other.  

Ian moved suddenly, and Mickey could hear the lube bottle opening.  Shit and fuck! This was the real shit now. Again, he tried to draw in breaths.  Again, he tried to slam shut his eyes. But he could feel the other man’s strong body hovering over him, could fill fisted hands on each side of his head, supporting Ian as he stared down, enjoying the view.  Because Ian fucking loved this more than any other part; loved watching Mickey fall apart under him as he entered him for the first time. 

Mickey didn’t disappoint.  As the thick head of Ian’s cock split him, he could feel it in every cell of his body.  His mouth fell open wordlessly, his chest tightened and his arms pulled taught. And the redhead apparently liked what he saw, if the lust heavy “fuck” that fell from his lips was any indicator.  It caused a swell of a different kind of pleasure to flow through Mickey. He still had some power. 

Not that it was doing him much good at this moment.  Ian resumed his sharp and targeted movements, striking the swollen nub inside him with precision.  Again and again and again. The redhead was hovering over him, so close that some thrusts would skim skin over skin, doubling the heady sensations that were pulsing through Mickey’s body.  He could hear the dark chuckle rumble in Ian’s chest above him but he just couldn’t take any more of this. It was too fucking much.

Frantic, protesting cries began pouring out of his mouth as his tongue worried at the stem, frantically trying to make words around it.  Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to just spit it out. But he could shake his head, beg with his eyes, grovel with his moans and cries.

“Don’t try to tell me you can’t,” the redhead whispered against his lips.  “You can. You know you can. You can give me one more. You can and you will.”

Mickey’s head shook side to side.  He couldn’t, he fucking  _ couldn’t _ .  His body was on fucking fire, from the shell of his ears to the tips of his toes.  Every muscle was at attention, every nerve was tingling. He was already there, already hovering on the edge as Ian drove just inside him with his focus on one particular prize.

“Now, Mick,” he murmured, licking up his throat as he gave the command, “Right now.”

And Jesus fuck, his fucking husband must have some kind of magical hold over him.  His body obeyed immediately as a third crest of pure pleasure crashed over him. He jackknifed sharply, his back arched off the bed, and the bedframe creaked from the pressure as the silk cords pulled tight.  His voice was going hoarse, his cries taking on a gravelly quality as they echo around the room. 

Mickey was done.  He was adrift with nothing but the feel of Ian inside him and all around him to hold him together.  But a sudden stutter in Ian’s precise thrusts pulled him back just enough to open his eyes and catch the other man’s gaze.  Ian was still leaning over him, studying his face carefully, but as Mickey starred up, he could see the dark mischief drain out of the green eyes.  The redhead slowed to a stop and a softness suffused all his features. Mickey’s whole body was still pulsing from the fresh assault but when Ian ran a thumb along his lips and chased it with a kiss, it captured all his attention.

“Do you know how much I fucking love you?” the redhead asked, every last trace of dominant southside attitude disappearing as open vulnerability took control.  Mickey was barely coherent but he suddenly needed to speak more than he needed to come. Worrying at the stupid rose stem with his tongue, he tried to push the long, heavy length loose as Ian grabbed it and pulled it free, dropping it onto the floor beside the bed.

“Yes,” Mickey spit out breathlessly the moment his tongue was free.  He could hear the heat in his own voice and saw the jolt of the words echo back from Ian.

“Yes?  You know…”

“Yes,” he repeated forcefully, trying to catch his breath as he yanked at his arms and pulled his head up from the bed to stare his husband right in the eye.  “Yes, I know. I don’t doubt that shit anymore and neither do you.”

“Nah, that’s not it,” Ian stated lightly, rubbing his thumb up and over Mickey’s cheek.  “I don’t doubt it at all but I sometimes wonder if you actually understand just how...just how fucking much...because even I can’t handle it sometimes,” A sheepish grin split his lips, “So then, I have to tie you up and shit.”

“You can tie me up any time you want.  You know I fucking love it. Or you can just kiss me or fuck me or, shit, just fucking tell me.”

“I love you,” the redhead stated immediately, staring down at him, “I love you so fucking much.”

“Shit, Ian,” Mickey murmured.  With a flick of his wrist, he chucked the rose petals towards the ground.  Ian’s grin only widened as he yanked at the quick release knots, and Mickey could feel the cords unwinding from his wrists.  Ian was reaching for them, probably to rub away the little red marks, but Mickey had no time for that shit now. Winding his arms around Ian’s neck, he pulled the other man in to lay a swift kiss on his lips, then reached for his ear. 

“I need you to fuck me.  Now!”

Ian didn’t need to be told twice.  His hand was already sneaking between them, searching out the last knot and freeing Mickey’s dick from its silken prison.  Mickey sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth as he felt his shaft spring out and begin to fill against the warm heat of Ian’s stomach.  

“Holy fuck!  Okay, now, now, now...fuh...uh,” Mickey’s litany was cut short as Ian unclasped his own ring and let his full length press inside him, bottoming out with a single demanding thrust.  The redhead’s arms shot up, gripping at the top of the mattress. His green eyes had screwed shut and his whole face was contorted into a grimace that Mickey could easily understand.  They were both so fucking close with nothing to hold them back.

Mickey had been milked into near delirium and the fullness of Ian was threatening to send him over the edge.  He could feel the other man panting frantically, trying to regain a little control. He could feel his own thighs spreading willingly as Ian shifted his hips to find leverage.  And then the green gaze was staring down hard at him.

“Come fast,” the redhead demanded.

Mickey only snorted.  Not gonna be a problem.

And it wasn’t.  Ian’s first real thrust triggered the climax that had been cresting and falling for hours now.  It exploded through his body and all he could manage was a long, drawn out, “Fuuuuu…” that cut off in a high pitched keen.  Every part of him was electrified and beyond his control, his heels frantically peddling and slipping on the sheets, his hands clawing at Ian’s shoulders, his body rocking with the rhythmic movement as Ian fucking pillaged him.  He was shaking everywhere, his vision starting to spot around the edges, when he was suddenly wrapped in a tight embrace. In one fluid movement, Ian dragged him off the bed, burying his face against Mickey’s throat and screaming out his own release.

He felt the unsteady sway of Ian’s body as the lust and adrenaline diffused through his blood stream.  The redhead was as exhausted and dizzy as he was but he fought off the sensation long enough to lay Mickey down carefully before collapsing next to him and throwing a leg up and over his thigh.  A huge hand moved to cup Mickey’s face and pull it sideways as Ian pressed a light kiss to his lips. They were still breathing too hard for more.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey muttered when he could finally catch his breath but the only answer he got was a cocky grin as the redhead forced himself to sit up.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Mickey heard himself whine.

“Can’t just go to sleep.  You’re gonna hurt like hell tomorrow unless we get you stretched out and then I’ll have to listen to it when you have to stay out of the water.”  Ian let his eyes run assessingly over the state of their bed, “and we should probably grab a shower and change the sheets. Just saying.”

Mickey only groaned as the taller man pulled him to his feet and into his arms.

 

V.  **Hotel Borg, Reykjavik, Iceland**

Ian pressed himself up against Mickey’s chest, holding the other man still beneath the spray of the warm water.  Looping one arm tightly around the brunette’s waist, he used the other to rub furiously up and down the length of his spine.  It wasn’t a terribly practical idea, he knew. Whatever heat he was generating wasn’t going to compare with the effects of the shower.  Instead, he reached down and seized one of Mickey’s hands, linking their fingers together and dragging it up towards his mouth. He could still feel some residual shivering in Mickey’s extremities and he blew hard on the shaking fingertips, then pressed a kiss to the knuckle.

“You’re an asshole.  You know that right?”

“Yeah,” came the hesitant reply, “I know.”

There was a distinct deprecating undertone in his lover’s voice that sent a jolt through Ian’s heart.  The brunette had let his head fall to the side, his gaze miserable and fixed on the floor. And suddenly Ian couldn’t take it.  They’d done something today that few people in the world would ever get to do; completing a winter dive in the Cathedral of the Silfra Fissure. They’d seen sights nearly too beautiful to comprehend.  It had blown Ian’s mind but as usual, his reaction had been nothing compared to Mickey’s. There was no underwater environment that failed to fascinate the other man and they’d stayed out until their tanks had hit minimum return.  

Mickey had been shivering violently by the time they’d gotten to the next dock on the side of the Fissure, and his speech was slurring slightly.  Ian has swung into medic mode in a millisecond, and he and the guide group had the brunette stripped and inside a warming unit within two minutes.  

The gradual external warming worked and his speech returned to normal very quickly, thank fuck.  All parties agreed that a trip to the hospital wouldn’t be necessary, but that didn’t mean Mickey was off the hook.  He got a biting lecture from the tour guide about ignoring the warning signs of hypothermia, which he’d accepted with humility, and a prescription of a long shower to get rid of the residual chill and an even longer nap.  Bundled back up in their heavy winter clothes, Ian had dragged him back to their hotel and immediately shoved him into the warm water. 

Ian was pissed but hell if he didn’t understand.  Danger and safety were relative terms where they came from and Ian knew that Mickey took a lot more precautions in the water now, mostly out of respect for the people who loved him.  But today had been different. The experience had been so unique. And he wasn’t going to let Mickey beat himself up over a bad but understandable choice at the expense of their whole experience.

Reaching down, he grasped Mickey by the chin, drawing him up until their eyes could meet and Ian could brush a kiss over his lips.

“Was it awesome?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Fuck that.  I’ll spank you later.  Right now, tell me what was awesome.”

Some of the light started to return to the blue eyes as they studied Ian’s face.  Finally, with a little nod, Mickey started to talk.

“I mean, the water, I’ve never seen anything so fucking clear.  And when the sun hit it, it was, hell...like swimming through a fucking diamond.”  There was a noticeable bounce in Mickey’s voice now, and Ian let him go, pulling him down on the ground to lean against his chest as the jets of the shower continued to pummel them and fill the air with steam.  

Finally,  _ finally,  _ Mickey’s shivering abated.  Ian pulled them to their feet and out into the bathroom, making quick work of drying the brunette and dragging him into thermals.  Mickey offered no resistance, a sure sign that the effects were still lingering. Ian wasn’t worried, though. He popped a thermometer into the brunette’s mouth, earning compliance with an eyeroll, and was happy to see that the temperature was holding at normal.  

“You still need sleep,” he ordered, crawling into the huge bed next to his drowsy husband and pulling the covers up and around their heads on a single pillow.  

“I kind of fucked up our evening.”

“Yeah, we aren’t going out tonight, but its fine.  We’re here for six more nights. But right now you’re gonna sleep and then we’re getting room service.  I’m sure we can find some dumb movie to watch later.” 

Snuggling in closer, Ian let his hand curve around the back of Mickey’s neck, rubbing circles into the skin.  “I’ll give you a massage later, okay.”

“Why are you gonna do shit for me after this?”

“Because I love you.  And because I get it.”

Mickey’s eyes crinkled.  “What do you get?”

“You,” Ian responded easily.  “I know what goes on in your head.  I know that you still have an instinctive reaction that tells you that you have to seize everything the first time because you might not get a second chance.  I know that it doesn’t matter how long we live in an ordered world, we both still have some of that chaos in our DNA. We’re never going to totally leave it behind.  For you, it’s this. You need to seize all opportunities. Doing something like getting out of the water early seems like a lost chance. But you still do it all the time for me and Augustin…”

“Shit, he’s gonna give me hell about this.”

Ian snorted.  “He’ll give  _ me _ hell.  I can hear him now.  ‘How am I to trust my precieux petit chatons if they will not look after each other when they are outside my care?’”

“Fuck.”

“We’re not telling him.”

Mickey yawned but smiled.  “Good idea.”

Rolling away for a moment, Ian found the clock on the ornate nightstand.  “You need to get some sleep,” he murmured, but it wasn’t necessary. Mickey was already drifting away.  

Ian lay beside him for awhile, gently tracing his sleep soft features.  In the past few years, Mickey had learned to sleep deeply and his mouth always turned up in the hint of smile when he dreamed.  People might think it weird as hell that Ian loved to watch his lover sleep, but fuck them. They didn’t know the victory it was.

Slipping carefully from the bed, Ian tucked the blankets back around his husband and stepped back.  The force of the word shook him for a moment. His  _ husband.   _ Mickey Milkovich was his fucking husband.  Somehow, they had managed to make it happen.  Somehow, they’d managed to find a safe place in the world.  Maybe, just maybe, fate had been more on their side than they’d realized.  

Ian headed over to the little kitchenette and made himself a cup of tea.  Pulling on his boots, hat, and a warm sweater, he opened the glass doors that led out onto the balcony.  It was only mid-afternoon but the Icelandic sun had already dropped behind the distant mountains and the city glowed with lights below him.  In the distance, he could see the dark expanse of the ocean.

It was beautiful here.  It was beautiful in Puerto Vallarta.  Not only had he married the love of his life but they’d escaped the perpetual gray of the streets of the southside and managed to land in the most vibrant of worlds.  It felt perfect, untouchable. 

And whenever Ian felt that, he knew he had to be cautious.   Things were good and even great a lot of the time, but reality always had flaws and that was okay.  Whenever Ian started to think things were perfect, that’s when other thoughts started to intrude. A small but insistently familiar voice that told him that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need those stupid pills anymore.  They got in his way. They regimented his life. They tried to control him. 

Looking out over the city, Ian took another sip of the tea.  He didn’t drink anymore, hadn’t for years, and that was another thing the voice tried to hold over him.  Can’t even cut loose and have fun anymore. But Ian was no longer that naive. He knew that voice and he wasn’t going to listen to it anymore.  It didn’t always lie. In fact many of the things it whispered to him were true. But they were only half the truth. For every regiment he followed, there was the freedom that came with peace of mind.  For every party he missed, there were experiences like this. And as for fun? The voice clearly didn’t know that there was nothing that could prove more addictive than stable happiness with the love of his life.  

Turning around and leaning against the railing, Ian let his gaze rest on Mickey’s sleeping form.  No, he would never risk that. In fact, it got easier every day. Turning back towards the water, he took a deep drink and finished off his tea.  

He had room service to order and a dumb movie to pick.

 

**VI. Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, Auvergne-Rhone-Alps, France**

Mickey held the laptop up and angled it over his shoulder so that the screen faced the massive, snow covered peaks that rose up towards the sky behind the beautiful chateau that he and Ian were occupying for the week.  “See that, bud?” he asked as he tried to shield the screen from the glaring sun.

“They’re huge!” came the voice from the Skype window.  Glancing up, Mickey could see Yevy’s blue eyes widen in shock as he took in the view.  “Does anyone ever go to the top?”

“Ian and I did yesterday, little man,” he replied, “but we didn’t walk.  We took a cable car ride.”

“What’s that,” asked the ever inquisitive little boy.

Mickey pulled the computer down  and balanced it on one arm as he walked back inside the warm living room.  It was way too fucking cold to stay out there for long. “It’s a little like an elevator, only its outside and you can see all around you from about a million windows.  The elevator thing hangs off a huge metal cable and carries you all the way up the mountain.”

“A cable?” Yev repeated, “Isn’t that like a string?  You went up the mountain with only a string holding you?”

Mickey bit his lip and suppressed a snicker.  The kid sounded truly horrified. 

“It’s way stronger than string, little man.  It’s super strong and could never break. And it was a really awesome ride because there was so much to look at.”

“Like snow?”

“So much snow, bud.”

“Oh,” Yev said, smiling, “That’s good that you got to see snow.  You and Ian never see snow.”

Mickey thought about those words for a second.  “Yeah, not so much. Not where we live.”

“We have snow at home with me and Mama and Aunt Mandy.  You should come visit us and see it here. There’s always a lot around Christmas.”  

There was a hopeful lilt in the little boy’s tone and it ate at Mickey’s heart.  

“We’ve talked about this, Yev.  You know Daddy can’t come to your house, right?  But you can always come to mine.” 

“Yeah, I know.  But someday, can we find some snow together?”

Mickey bit down on his lower lip. Fuck.  He knew that, despite all the odds, his kid was having a much, much better childhood than any of his parents, but still, it seemed like such a little thing to want to play in the snow with your dad.  And it was something Mickey couldn’t give to him.

“Maybe someday, kid.  I really want to.”

Yev let out a little sigh with a hint of resignation, but his smile returned in full force quickly.  “Oh, let me show my picture,” He disappeared for a moment and came back carrying a silver frame. “Mama says this is only a copy.  She ordered a real one off the computer.”

Mickey stared at the shot, feeling his heart knot tightly.  It was still a little surreal. He and Ian stood knee deep in the water, letting the salt soak into the nice linen slacks they’d worn as they stood on the beach and said their vows.  Between them, Yev dangled from each hand as they lifted him above the surf, his face glowing and the water just flicking the bottom of his cargo shorts. All of them wore huge smiles.

Mickey could feel tears prickle under the lids of his eyes.  “Where did you get that picture on the computer, Yev?”

“Mama went on the site.  The one from the man who had the camera.  I told you he took too many, Daddy. There are so many pictures and half of them look the same but Mama wanted to look at them all.”

As if on cue, Svetlana came up behind the little boy.  “Is time for bed,” she said, offering Mickey a knowing smile.  “You will call again, day after tomorrow, yes?”

Mickey nodded gratefully.  He missed the kid like crazy but he had to go take a look at the pictures.  He kind of couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to see them. Who the fuck had he become?

“Say goodnight to your papa,” Svetlana insisted as Yev ran back to the computer screen.

“Love you, Daddy,” he yelled, blowing a kiss.  

“Love you, too, buddy,” Mickey replied, letting his fingertips run down the screen over the contours of his son’s face.  Then the screen went dark.

With trembling fingers, Mickey fumbled with his phone.  Fuck. He hadn’t even wanted a photographer but he’d been voted down by Mandy and Svet and Fiona and Deb and pretty much everyone else.  Now, though, he just wanted to see with his own eyes the proof that he and Ian had actually pulled it off. He tapped at his work email and scrolled though until he found the link for the fancy photographer that Augustin and the ridiculously large group of women in his life had hired for the ceremony.  Sure enough, there was a second email now, with a passcode to open up their online album.

“Ian,” he yelled into the house.  He heard footsteps from upstairs and then Ian was staring down at him from the railing of the second floor, “Get your ass down here.  Our pictures are up.”

The redhead’s face lit up, just like Mickey knew it would and he turned to thunder down the stairs.  Quickly, Mickey clicked on the link to the website as Ian came up behind him. Without waiting for an invitation, he picked Mickey and the laptop up together, ignoring his husband’s indignant snark as he sat down on the couch and arranged Mickey in his lap, cuddling up against his back and resting his chin on his shoulder.  The brunette couldn’t contain the snort that escaped him; he had to bitch about the manhandling on principal, but now all he really wanted to do was relax back into his husband’s chest. 

Skimming through the thumbnails, he found theirs about a third of the way down the page.  As per their instructions, it was a shot of them from the back with no recognizable features.  The names below them were the same ones on their passports; Michael and Eian Milligan. It kind of took his breath away for a moment.  He’d used the name for years but seeing it linked up like this together was still pretty surreal. Clicking on picture, he typed the passcode into the box that popped up and waited.

Shit.  Yev was right, there were way too many.  But the first one took his breath away. He kind of couldn’t believe he’d let himself look so damn open, but then, he’d lost the last remaining fragments of his bravado when he’d met Ian out there on the sand.  Everyone around them loved them. Everyone around them wanted them happy. And he’d just let it wash over him completely and suck him down. 

The picture was a close up of their faces, mere moments after their first kiss.  Their eyes were still closed and their foreheads rested against each other gently.  In the little spaces between them, the blue of the ocean shown through, highlighting their profiles.  But what drew his eyes the most was the way their lips curled up in matching grins.

They looked happy.  They looked so fucking happy.

Mickey let himself press back against Ian’s chest as the other man drew him close.  Fuck. It wasn’t like he hadn’t realized they were married. They’d both been there for fuck’s sake.  They’d both been wearing the matching bands on their fingers since that day. But there was just something about seeing themselves in this moment that made it incredibly real.

“Love you,” he whispered without even thinking about it.

“Love you, too,” the redhead whispered back.  

They held each other close as they flipped through the rest of them.  They hadn’t really posed for any shots but the guy with the camera had done a fantastic fucking job of catching them in perfect moments.  There was a whole series of them kicking around in the water in their good clothes, eventually joined by Yev, then Frannie, and then every member of their family.  

“Yev wants to see snow with me,” Mickey suddenly blurted out, looking over his shoulder at the other man.  “He wants us to come up for Christmas so we can see the snow with him.”

Ian’s face crumpled slightly.  “Mick…”

“I know,” he interjected quickly, turning back towards the computer.  So many faces smiled back from the screen. Yev in his arms with his arms thrown gleefully into the air.  Mandy in a light pink dress and flowers in her hair. Iggy and Colin, looking cleaner and healthier and more relaxed than he ever remembered seeing them.  Svet and Kev and Vee with their twins. And every fucking Gallagher ever.

Except Frank.  Fuck Frank.

“I miss them,” he murmured, looking back up at Ian.  “Not just Yev, but all of them. I didn’t think I would but shit.  I mean, we were one fucked up family but still…”

“Hey,” Ian said, “I know.  And I wasn’t going to tell you that we can’t go see your kid…”

“We can’t…”

“We can!  We just can’t go to Chicago.  But it wouldn’t be hard for us to fly into Windsor and rent, I don’t know, an Airbnb or some shit.  Then they can just cross the border and come to us. We’d have all the snow in the world.”

Mickey stared up at him, not even bothering to give a shit about the tears brimming in his eyes.  “You’re fucking brilliant.”

Ian just smiled and turned back to the screen.  “Let’s finish looking at these, okay, then we can walk down into the village for some dinner.”

“Cold as shit out.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be nice.  And I’ll warm you up when we get home.”

“You corny fucker,” Mickey snorted as he wiped his eyes and turned back to the pictures, clicking through to the next shot.  

 

**VII.**

Ian had built a fire.

It had been hard work, hauling the wood up into the house, breaking down the kindling, and building up the blaze.  But now the orange glow lit up the entire bedroom, casting dancing shadows across every surface and Ian was glad he’d taken the time.  

His husband looked fucking gorgeous in the firelight.  

Tomorrow, they would go home.  They were ready. They loved their life at home.  They were starting to miss it. This had been an amazing adventure.  They’d seen and done incredible things. But he wanted their little apartment.  He wanted to curl up in their bed together, cook in their kitchen together, sprawl on their couch together. Forever.  

A low moan tore out of Mickey’s lips.  He was astride him, rocking their bodies together in a perfect, gentle rhythm and Ian let his hands settle on the brunette’s hips, urging him on.  The light danced off his skin with each thrust.

Mickey’s eyes were closed and his perfect lips were parted as he increased the pace.  Ian could feel his entire body tensing, but he fought off the need to screw his eyes closed.  No, he wanted to watch. 

Mickey falling apart in firelight was a beautiful sight.  His back arched but his fingers found Ian’s on his hips, threading them together and holding tight.  He looked raw and primal and perfect as he came and the sight had Ian thrusting upward and following him over the edge instantly.  

The brunette was limp and sated as he leaned forward, collapsing onto his chest, but he found Ian’s lips and pressed a kiss to them, offering up a familiar snarky smile as he burrowed into Ian’s side.

The redhead stared up at the ceiling, perfectly content.  Tonight they would sleep, and tomorrow they would head home, where they could get back to the business of working and playing and growing and loving together.

For as long as they both shall live.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for people reading for warnings:
> 
> There is some light bondage and domination. Nothing that involves pain play. Really, pretty light. Also, I don't highlight it because it messes with the fantasy but I think it should go without saying that Ian is constantly checking Mickey's hand for the rose petals. Continuous consent is everything. 
> 
> Ian bottoms. Just once, because he let Trevor do it and he really wants to give that to Mickey, so there isn't anything he hasn't shared with him. I'm not huge on them switching in my own fics. I tend to think they should stick to what they do best.


End file.
